Dawn's New Light
by Chiaroscuro3515
Summary: Christine has left with Raoul and the Opera Populaire has returned to its full glory. Erik meets a charming little angel by the name of Elizabeth who, if he lets her, might just bring him out of the darkness. R&R, OW
1. Meeting

Author's Note:_Hello, my darling readers. I know I have been posting a massive amount of Phantom fan fiction lately and taking it down and messing around with it. I am going to take my other story Phantom of Promise down, as this one has a similar premise, but this little story is here to stay. I have not written all of it yet, but I do have a bit written ahead, against my better judgment of course. You should be getting daily updates with this for a while unless something comes up. Of course, that all hinges on whether or not you review -laughs evilly- Alright, enough ranting on my part. Enjoy!_

DISCLAIMER:_ I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of the related characters. If I did, I would be a millionaire, Raoul would be dead, and Christine would actually come close to deserving someone as wonderful as Erik. _

The stage was set for the performance tonight and everything was going to plan. Prima Donna Carlotta was back to singing once more now that the beloved Christine Daae had gone with her patron. Time had rebuilt the Opera Populaire and it was once more brimming with talent.

At rehearsal, the ballet coryphées and sujets danced as Egyptian harem girls, every one of them perfectly in sync except for a brunette maiden with long straight hair. She was slender and her midriff was shown in her revealing outfit. Thus was her part in this grand opera. "No no no!" Madame Giry said shaking her head. Everyone stopped. She pulled Elizabeth to the side and the rest of the girls continued with the combination. "Elizabeth, the opera is tonight and I cannot have you ruining it. I am sorry but you are going to have to sit this one out." Elizabeth looked horrified and shook her head slowly, her hands reaching out to stop Madame Giry from turning away. "But-" "I am sorry my dear. Go back to your room." Madame Giry walked away to attend to the other girls. Elizabeth ran, her heart broken. Her passion was dancing but she did not have the natural talent, nor the grace of Meg Giry or the other girls. She felt like a failure to herself and her friends. She opened the door and then slammed it, falling onto her bed, tears caressing her cheeks as she sobbed. She was never talented at anything! She could not sing, could not dance. It was just a matter of time before they threw her out and then where could so go? She would be forced to live on the streets. "What am I going to do?" She sobbed uncontrollably, the music still audible from the stage. All the other girls would get to perform. Except for her.

_Erik paced the passageways behind the stage. Tonight's opera was the new opening after... the incident. He clenched his teeth, willing his mind not to think of her. As he strode past the dressing room where he had once given his lessons to his little angel, he stopped._

_There, in the room, were the muffled cries of a heart broken child. He peered through the two way mirror and saw a petite little girl with straight chestnut hair flung upon the chaise. She was such a broken little thing. It nearly melted the ice that had re-formed around his heart since he had lost... Christine. _

_The tears flowed freely now, though he barely registered them. His mind was drowning in memories. The satin feel of her neck... the berry color of her lips... the delight and wonder in her eyes as he took her down to the lair... her auburn curls, always smelling of roses and sunshine. _

_He was torn from his mind by the girl's lament "What am I going to do?" Strained as her voice was with emotion, there was a depth of beauty there that he had not heard for so long. He sighed, collected his thoughts, and called out to her. "Stop crying, dear child. What is troubling you?"_

Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin as the voice called out to her. She looked around, rubbing her eyes to find herself completely alone. Her thoughts wandered and her heart began to race. Meg and the other girls had told her of the Opera Ghost. The Phantom of the Opera. His voice, so soothing and calming beckoned you and there were few who could resist. He took girls down to his lair to seduce them and make them bend to his will. He was an evil and horrifying man. She breathed harshly as fear consumed her. He had found her and now would she be marked for death? Her bosom fell up and down as her breathing intensified. "It is nothing that isn't my own fault. It is you is it not? The man whom talks to girls as only a voice." Her fists tightly balled into the upholstery as she fought to make her shaky voice steady. "Are you not the Opera Ghost?"

_He sighed gently behind the mirror, attempting to quell the old fury that stirred at the nickname. It would not do to lie again. Erik knew how well that had served him in the past. "I am the one they call the Opera Ghost, but I am no apparition, no Phantom, mademoiselle. I am a man, a man with a name. I am Erik, just as you are Elizabeth. Do not be frightened, child. I know all the goings on of the theatre. Your name has not escaped my ear." _

_He rolled his eyes, and inwardly cursed himself for speaking. The allure of this little woman-child was both strange and familiar, but none too pleasing to his tortured heart. "You would do well to respond, Elizabeth. It is only polite," He again waited for some small sound from the girl. Nothing. Fine, he thought, last chance. "I will not hurt you, Elizabeth."_

She thought she could hear sadness in his voice, regret, but she said nothing about it and dismissed it from her thoughts. She was quite frightened that he knew her name but took comfort in knowing his as well. He was a man as she was a woman.

"Meg has told me about you and everyone knows of the events that happened at the theater in years past. Everyone who lived that night told of a man who was not a man. A man who's face was horrible beyond measure. Is that why you hide in the shadows monsieur?" She looked around, hoping to find the source of his voice. "I will admit that your presence is a little frightening. A voice without a body...."

_Erik laughed despite himself. "I hide the shadows for the same reasons that spiders do. We are not accepted in polite society. Yes, everyone has heard of me as the infamous Opera Ghost, burning the Opera Populaire to the ground for the love of a beautiful soubrette. Yet, no one seems to know of Erik. Pity, I am a rather interesting creature. Not the most lovely in appearance, but after all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Of course," _

_At this his voice grew very cold, almost detached. "I have a face that not even a mother could love." The sarcasm had died away and he made the decision coolly, with all the intuitive mental grace of the mastermind he was. "Would you like to know this man, Elizabeth? This Erik?"_

She listened closely to his voice and closed her eyes. The deep roughness of the sound made her heart flutter and suddenly all fear left her. Lonely desperation. He was searching for acceptance knowing he would not gain it easily. "If you come to my room and reveal yourself then yes. I would. I am always eager to gain a new friend and you are a person of interesting nature. Erik, come into the light and rest assured. I have no place to judge another soul."


	2. Vulnerable

AUTHOR'S NOTE: _Back again everyone, and thank you for the lovely reviews Stanislav'sgirl and Waggers12345, would it be too much to ask again for this chapter? Alright, this one has a bit more Erik than Elizabeth, but you shall see why in a moment. He has a lot of feelings… -cough- inward emo tirades -cough-, about what goes on. Enjoy the following insanity!_

DISCLAIMER:_ I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything else for that matter. My name is not Andrew, Gaston, or Susan. It is Mackenzie. _

_Erik listened intently, his jaw dropping farther with every word. She was welcoming him? With open arms? He needed no further invitation. Friendship was rare refined in the world of a disfigured recluse. This girl could not harm him. She had no power over him. He flipped the latch on the mirror and strode through confidently. Stopping before the chaise, Erik bowed deeply and spoke two words, holding out a hand gloved in black leather, "Echante, Elizabeth"_

She felt her heart stop dead at the sight of him. He was tall and well built. Not muscular but he had broad shoulders and half of his face was handsome, the other half hidden by that white mask he wore. When he greeted her she curtsied and placed her hand on his leather gloved one. "It is such an honor to meet you. Meg had said she thought you died or slipped off entirely into insanity. It frightens me, I must admit, to know you have killed people and laughed of it. It makes me fear for my own safety. However, I don't think I pose a threat. Do I?"

_"I laughed in my insanity, nightingale. I was so far gone from unrequited love that nothing at all made sense or had worth to me anymore but her... but Christine." His voice broke and he turned toward Elizabeth, his eyes clouded with tears. "I have only in the past decade killed to protect my anonymity and safety, or to protect her. I gained a conscience when I met her." He looked upon Elizabeth. The little maiden with such shocking courage, unknown even to herself. _

_Seeing her expectant face, he granted her with the rare gift of a smile. "You are too small and too trusting to ever pose a threat to me. No one can, truly. Only those that have my heart. Which no one does." His voice adopted the same coolness as it had previously. Erik shook it off. No, he would not treat this girl as any other. She was remarkably different from all. Erik placed a hand on her smooth, ivory cheek and made her face him. "Now, what would you like to know about Erik?"_

Elizabeth sat on the bed, looking at him, her eyes brimming with questions, showing no fear. She had many questions to ask him. Of his past, where he came from, how he learned magic. Then something puzzled her. "Shouldn't you say, what would you like to know about me? Why do you say your name as if You and Erik are separate individuals?" He brought her long hair over her shoulder and watched his face.

_"Ah, I knew that would be brought up. Inquisitive, are you not? Erik and I are in many ways separate entities. I have lived as The Angel of Music, as The Opera Ghost, as The Devil's Child, and as The Shah's Personal Assassin. Yet, in all my days, I have never truly lived as Erik. That man is even more of a mystery to me than he is to you. I would like to say he is a respectable man, but I, myself, do not know. I would like to discover Erik, my little nightingale. It is something I have been meaning to do for a long time." Erik spoke gently, liltingly, as if he were truly enjoying himself. _

_It was rather remarkable the effect Elizabeth had on him. He pursed his lips. Yes, he must test her. Erik laid his hand, palm up upon the chaise. It was not too close to her, but he was curious as he had not been in a long time as to what the woman sitting next to him would do with such an invitation. The woman. No, she was a child. He inwardly scolded himself. She would not be another Christine. Still, he kept his hand there as if he hadn't a care in the world._

Elizabeth's eyes saw his hand lay face up and without another thought she laid her hand in his, the other in her lap. Her eyes were wide and bright as she looked up at him and asked another question. "So what sight lies beyond the mask? May I see or is that a secret that will be kept even from myself?" She squeezed his leather cloaked hand and waited for his answer.

_Erik gazed at their hands intertwined on the velvet upholstery, unaware of anything else. The woman had dared to touch him. To reach into his solitude and lessen it in some small measure. He came to realize that she was speaking. Of course. The mask. He could not, for the life of him understand the unbearable need others had to unmask him. Erik did not want to see the same disgust that was etched on Christine's face when she had glimpsed the terrifying visage reflected on the face of this beauty. _

_His eyes traced her own flawless profile, from her delicately arched brow over grey-blue eyes to her plump bow shaped lips to her elegant neck. Erik sighed and inwardly said the same thing he had voiced to himself since he was a child. The last glimmer of innocent hope. Maybe. Maybe she would be different from all the others. With his hand held tightly around hers, he intoned quietly, "Yes, Elizabeth, you may."_

There was a silence from her end. A very still silence. This man whom she'd often daydreamed about was right here. The legendary phantom was no more than a man seeking friendship. She brought one hand up, breathing deeply, letting her fingers explore the perfect like of his unmasked portion. Her curious fingertips lead her to the mask. Taking a deep breath she removed it from him and gasped, jumping back a little. Such a horrid creature! However he was still a man. She crawled back to him and touched the planes of his marred flesh. "Oh, my…"

_Her hand upon his unmarred cheek sent shocks of delight down his spine. Her tiny hand was warm and smelled of lilies. The fingertips crept to the mask and he drew in a breath, bracing himself for her reaction. Erik could hear the gasp and felt the fingertips leave his skin as Elizabeth scurried backwards across the chaise. Disappointment wracked his soul. _

_But wait, here was the rustle of fabric. She once again sat next to him and reached her hand to his face. She stroked his ravaged cheek. The skin there, so much more sensitive than the other half after being kept under a mask for so long, nearly leapt at the pure and singular joy of human contact. _

_Tears came to his eyes and he wept bitterly, ridding himself of all the anguish that had passed, the collective torment that Christine and all before her had caused. Erik saw his life of agony before his eyes, but what tethered him to the present against the maelstrom was the soothing touch of Elizabeth. Erik caught her hand and kissed the ivory flesh. Ripping the leather gloves off his own strong, sensitive musician's hands, he traced her lovely face, utterly captivated._


	3. Choices

Author's Note:_ Hello my lovely readers. I am very sorry about the late update, but alas, I was not able to log onto my computer the past few days for personal reasons. Elizabeth has some ditzy moments in this chapter, but please bear with her. After all, how would you act if Erik started touching you? Think hard. Yes, my point exactly, not quite coherent are you? Please enjoy this chapter and as always, READ AND REVIEW! _

DISCLAIMER: _I do not, nor have I ever owned the Phantom of the Opera. If someone can find someway to sell me Erik, I will bake them a large tray of cookies and agree to be their eternal slave. _

She closed her eyes as he touched her face, the paleness of her cheeks blooming to life with color. She accepted him. After a moment though, she pulled away, biting her lip. "What are we doing? This…a man should not touch a woman at their first meeting with such a desire in his eyes. Leads to ill intent, so please." Things were proceeding a little too fast a pace for her. "I don't mean to reject you Monsieur, but...." she looked away and bit her lip. "Perhaps we should discover more about one another before such touches are exchanged?" She put her hand on his and shook her head. "Such is a proper, gentlemanly thing to do, is it not?"

_Erik frowned slightly, a bit embarrassed. "Forgive me, Elizabeth. I have not been exposed to polite society as you have. I would surely not wish to compromise your virtue. I would never be able to forgive myself for something so horrible. Come little darling, I shall be able to speak more freely in an atmosphere that is familiar. Care to visit my humble abode?" He smiled slightly and strode to the mirror, as cavalier as though he were inviting her for a ride in his carriage rather than deep below the opera house. "The choice, is of course, up to you." He waited patiently, almost humbly. It was the most unsure of himself he had seemed in years. He was letting his guard down. Erik was allowing himself to be a man._

She took a step back, her hand on her chest. Curiosity tore her in two. She wanted to get to know this man however, being alone…beneath the opera with him...where no one could hear her was terrifying. "Why can we not remain up here? To recede to your comfort zone and pull me outside my own will surely not make us understand one another. Do you fear this lonely room so much?"

_He sighed once more. That Elizabeth was terrified was plain. He did not want to crush a friendship that had just so recently bloomed. He did not want her to be frightened of him. "We may stay above the opera house, with one condition: we must leave this room. The dressing room which you are in once belonged to Mademoise-...Madam l'Vicomtess de Chagny. Hence the two way mirror." He gestured to it and chuckled a bit at her surprised face. "What? You think I would have the time and energy to install these in all dressing rooms. Well, I suppose I could, but I did not have the will, as none of the other ballerinas interested me as Christine did. In any case, this room holds far too many memories. It was here that I taught her to sing like an angel and here that I presented my red roses to her. Everything in this room has her scent lingering upon it." He groaned with heartache and again sat upon the chaise. "Anywhere else you would be comfortable... that we may retire to without being seen?"_

She felt herself pity him. Her eyes softened and she scooted close to him, laying her hands on his shyly. "And you think...I shall do the same as she? That I shall betray you and run off with some handsome fellow who is fickle and cares nothing for me aside from my beauty and voice? Do you think another woman could be so air headed as Christine was?" Her voice softened and she blushed. "You are a genius....Everyone knows it. Will you teach me as you taught Christine? I desire to be good at something. I have no talent as a dancer and my voice is not even that of a chorus girl." Her cheeks reddened and she looked away. "And if I do not contribute to the opera house...they shall have no need of me and I will be thrown out. Then I will have no where to go."

_He moved his hands away. "Do not insult Christine in my presence. She may have left me, but I still love her with every fiber of my being. She did not make the choice I wanted her to, but still it was hers." Erik's eyes softened and he moved back toward Elizabeth. "I apologize. You do not deserve such an outburst. In any case, I feel happier with you than I have in quite a while... perhaps even with Christine." Rosy color came into his death pale cheeks, as he was not used to expressing such emotion. He looked at her, his eyes both hopeful and resigned. "I can teach you to have a voice worthy of a diva. You have some measure of natural talent. I can determine that by your speaking voice. I cannot teach you to be a better dancer, as even though I have some knowledge of classical ballet, the technique for men and women is very different." He saw her eyes fill with tears. "I will talk to Marguerite... Madame de Barbarac, on your behalf. She listens to my guidance as her mother did before her." Erik cupped her chin in his hand. "You shall astonish Paris."_

Elizabeth saw the blush forming on his cheeks and she blushed as well. Even with the disfigurement he was a handsome man. Erik was kind and quite a gentleman. But with his last declaration, she shook her head and looked down at her hands. "But...I will never be the woman you love. I cannot be Christine." She stood up and closed her eyes. "Monsieur....I...." She looked away, jealousy in her eyes. For once she was interested in someone and he loved another. "I wish you not to ask favors of others. I do not want to stay because of that. I want to stay if I am good enough." She was looking away from him now, a little disheartened. "I think it best you go now."

_Erik grabbed her hand, pleading sadness in his eyes. "Please do not ask me to leave, Elizabeth. May I speak freely?" He gazed into her eyes, holding her cheek with his strong hand. "Yes, I love Christine. However, this love is a poison to my very soul. She has tormented me and tortured me and left to marry that wretched Vicomte. I love her, yes, but in many ways, I hate her. I hate her for stealing my heart, then tearing it apart and leaving it bleeding on the ground. I hate her for her foolishness, her selfish pride. I hate her." His eyes were cold and yet full of unadulterated longing, not for the woman he spoke of, but for the woman before him. "I am not asking you to love me, Elizabeth, as I know no one can. I am simply asking you to help me cultivate your voice into something beyond this world." Erik stroked her auburn hair, thinking. "I am asking you to be my angel, as never anyone was before."_


End file.
